


The First Time

by dontbecooler



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Returns, Ficlet, First Kiss, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Recovery, i dont know what to tag this with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 10:25:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6654301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontbecooler/pseuds/dontbecooler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because the man living with him wasn't truly Bucky Barnes, didn't mean that Steve wasn't going to have to deal with a whole lot of baggage that came with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Well a little blog called http://sherlockholmesismydrug.tumblr.com/ asked me to write something for their friend http://buckyandsteve-stucky.tumblr.com/ and i did and im a little proud i managed to get it done so im posting it here as well as my blog http://stuckyprompts.tumblr.com/
> 
> its just a little thing i whipped up real quick i know its not super amazing quality i just want it in more places than one okay??? okay
> 
> ENJOY XXXX

Those eyes were Bucky’s, but they weren’t. Oh he could probably draw those eyes without needing a reference photo, the way the grey would sometimes fall into blue, or how they crinkled up in the corners when Bucky smiled… Except this wasn’t Bucky, and this man didn’t smile.

Not that he didn’t try, hell, Steve could see the soldier every day working on not flinching every time Steve addressed him as Sarge (by the brunet’s request, they were slowly working towards using ‘James’ on a regular basis). It had been about a month since the guy had turned up at his door, and Steve didn’t need to give him direct orders to eat now, even if it took a little bit of coaxing some days. 

Conversation was always limited, or one sided, and Steve tried, he really did _try_ to not think of this man as the one that had been left back in the 1940s, but it was hard. It was harder than anything he could have prepared himself for, and harder than anything Sam could try and prepare him for. Their conversations were getting longer, at least, the more and more the Sargent gave Steve to think about.

Like how he had simply stared at him the other day. Not weirdly, just… Neutrally. It hadn’t been a hollow gaze, it had seemed like the brunet had been thinking about something, Steve just didn’t know what.

It confused the hell out of him.

The whole situation confused him, but with SHIELD refusing the guy to be under any other kind of custody than Steve’s (the captain refused to let SHIELD keep the soldier captive, even under the guise of ‘protection’), the living circumstances were just something he had to learn to work with.

The first time he got a smile Steve nearly choked on his breakfast. It wasn’t even one that seemed wry and hollow, not satirical or dark humored like he sometimes got. Steve had casually been telling a story of the time he had gone to the pound to make a positive appearance in public while also getting to hang out with puppies, when out of no where, he’d picked up a puppy and it was so excited it had peed all down his front. Steve had been chuckling about it, nothing like filling the air with a little flashback, when he looked up and saw Sarge smiling down to his cereal. Smiling. With little crinkles forming around the sides of his eyes.

Steve didn’t say anything about it, but the rest of the day had seemed a little lighter.

The first time they touched, and wow, had touching been a major for the soldier from the very start, it started off mechanical. Only if it was necessary did the brunet come anywhere near him. At the start, Steve helped him wash a couple of times, and it had all seemed very detached, handler and pet-assassin kind of stuff, and it had scared the heebie-jeebies out of Steve. Most of the time they just avoided it, they just, existed around each other in close proximity.

The first time the soldier touched him voluntarily, Steve had nearly swallowed his tongue. They were watching a movie, black and white, a simple love-story to pass the hours until Sarge was tired enough that his dreams were kept at bay, and they were nearing the end of the film. Steve had finished all his popcorn, his cushion was bunched up on his lap and the lead actress was tearfully confessing her love to the actor to stop him driving away. Steve was smiling softly to himself, and after a moment he registered a weight on his hand, cool fingers just resting on his, where his hand had been laid in the middle of the couch. He glanced over, saw the soldiers face still fixed on the screen, but his hand was laid over top of Steve’s… The blond didn’t move away, and through the next two black and white films that’s how they sat, neither acknowledging the contact and neither stopping it.

The first time they kissed Steve nearly spontaneously combusted. What with the smiles becoming more regular, the odd touch of his shoulder or knee when they were alone, the looks that were turning from neutral to… something more, he should’ve seen it coming. Because even though those eyes weren’t Bucky’s, those eyes were hiding emotions that were slowly being relearned. 

Steve had been making pasta, trying the mixture every so often to see what spices needed to be put in, when he had turned to Sarge standing right behind him, always silent on his feet and making Steve jump.

“Can I try some of that?” He asked, those grey eyes seeming to gleam under the kitchen light. There wasn’t much space between them, but Steve accounted that to the soldier still needing to learn about the whole ‘personal space’ thing. 

“Uh… Yeah. Sure,” was the captain’s reply, and before he could turn to get a spoonful of the mince to try, the brunet was leaning forward very quickly, flesh hand resting briefly on Steve’s cheek to hold him still while he pressed his lips firmly against Steve’s, two seconds at most, and he pulled away, licking his lower lip and looking very content with himself. Steve probably looked like a deer in headlights, frozen, confused, and bright red in the cheeks.

“That needs more garlic, I think,” he said, and then the man was walking away without even giving Steve a chance to really think over what had just happened. 

It confused the hell out of him, sure, but he definitely wasn’t going to complain.


End file.
